


Break Me Down

by ladyofthursday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in Panties, Detective Dean Winchester, Fluff, Grinding, Lapdance, M/M, Stripper Castiel, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Twink Castiel, minor smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofthursday/pseuds/ladyofthursday
Summary: Dean's not quite sure why he's spending his Friday night at the cheapest strip club in town, when all he wants to do is get wasted and forget about his troubles. But things take an upturn when Angel takes to the stage - he's got a body to die for, a super sexy routine and he's got his eyes on Dean...





	Break Me Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TobytheWise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobytheWise/gifts).



> This is for the lovely Tobythewise - for all her unwavering love and support. Also, because we started talking about Twink!Stripper!Cas and I couldn't get it out of my head... 
> 
> I wrote this over a few days and it's probably not my best work! Let's be fair it's cute, sexy trash and I love it! This hasn't been beta-ed so I apologise for any mistakes. 
> 
> I now have [Tumblr](https://ladyofthursday.tumblr.com/)\- come say hi! I sometimes post little ficlets on there and I'm always open to prompts!

Out of all the places they could have ended up on this Friday night, Dean will never, ever know why Victor picked a strip club.

Sure, he loves seeing a good pair of boobs or a nice ass as much as the next guy but right now, he kinda wishes they could have just picked a good dive bar. They could’ve had some whiskey, maybe some tequila, some dodgy bar food and all woken up tomorrow wishing they were dead.

Instead he’s sat, front and centre, around a table in _The Candy Shop_ nursing a cheap beer and trying to ignore the cloying smell of strawberry body butter. The place is filling up fast, but he’s only got half an eye on the topless blonde currently twirling on the silver pole in the middle of the main stage.

“C’mon man, lighten up!” jokes Victor as he waves over a waitress to order a round of shots.

“I am light… I mean… fuck you!” Dean scowls, attempting his best angry face.

“Nah, it’s ok,” adds Victor, “but don’t worry, I’m sure we can find you something sweet.”

Dean rolls his eyes, a smile now playing on his lips. He knows what they’re doing – they want to get him laid or at least, help him forget about Lisa.

“Don’t worry brother,” says Benny quietly, “if he gets to much, I’ll get you out.”

“Oh no!” interrupts Gabe, casually waving a lollipop around as he gesticulates wildly. “Nobody is going anywhere. Dances are on me boys!” he hollers, knocking back three shots. “Drinks are on Victor!”

“What the fuck man?!”

Dean chuckles to himself as Gabe and Victor bicker back and forth. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all? At the very least he can look at some beautiful women, get shitfaced and watch his co-workers embarrass themselves. He’ll still wish he was dead in the morning.

“By the way,” Benny mutters, amusement lightening his tone. “We weren’t sure what you fancied at the moment, but lucky for you this fine establishment offers the best of both.”    

Dean stares at him for a minute trying to work out what the fuck Benny is talking about, ‘best of both’? What the hell does that-

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Benny’s bought him to a mixed sex club. Men and Women. Oh fuck.

“Calm your tits Dean-o,” calls Gabe, across the table. “We all know and none of us give a rat’s ass whether you like dick or pussy.”

“Exactly, but you’ve gotta relax man.” Victor adds, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve been so stressed lately – with your cases, with all the Lisa shit.”

“Gotta lighten up, brother.”

“Fine, fine, you’re all assholes.” He drains his beer, orders another and relaxes into his seat to watch the dancers.

After the blonde comes a dark-haired woman named Honey, in barely-there white lingerie that’s pretty much see through under the stage lights. As she saunters onto the main stage in front of them, Dean’s pretty sure Victor nearly has a heart attack.

There’s about three or four stages, each with its own dancer and pole, but it seems like only the centre stage acts get announced. They’re the stars, as it were, and Dean is more than happy to watch these beautiful young women gyrate and spin to a throbbing baseline. Occasionally he notices the shining, oiled figure of a boy on another one of the stages, each one in tiny booty shorts or glittering g-strings. Dean’s pants may or may not start to get a little uncomfortable at this point.

After quite a few more dancers, there’s a pause and the lights dim.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” comes a voice from the sound system, “I hope you’re having a great time here at The Candy Shop! It’s time for our headliners, starting with the beautiful Chastity. Her name may be innocent but she’s the devil in disguise.”

Dean snorts into his beer. Gabe gasps beside him.

A woman strolls onto the stage with a smirk that says she knows that every single pair of eyes in the room is watching her. She’s wearing a skin-tight nurse’s outfit that’s a stark white against her creamy skin, a tiny pair of devil’s horns peek from the dark hair curling down over her shoulders. She shoots Gabe a salacious wink as she pulls herself up the pole, grips it with her thighs and folds over backwards, offering the detective a perfect view of her ample cleavage.

“Holy fuck, that’s it boys I’m calling dibs!” says Gabe, pulling out his wallet ready to tuck as much money as possible into the temptress’s glittering red thong that’s just been revealed. “Find your own entertainment.”  

Benny rolls his eyes because everyone knows he’s going home to Andrea, who is quite possibly _the_ most understanding wife in the universe. “I’m good, brother, you have your fun.”

“Gladly! Now we just need to sort the lovely Dean-o here out and everything will be okey dokey again.”

“Nah man, I’m good.” And he means it, he really does. This has been fun, in a weird sort of way. He watches the rest of Chastity’s routine and downs the rest of beer, reaching to pick up his wallet to pay his share of the tab when the lights dim again.

“And now it’s time for the Candy Shop’s very own Angel… I hope you’ve all been good, because if not he’ll definitely punish you!”

The lights begin to flash, blue and white, and a siren begins to wail. Smoke fills the stage as a pounding beat throbs through the speakers and the drawn out opening lyrics ring in Dean’s ears as the most beautiful boy he’s even seen appears on the stage. He’s got dark hair and smooth, toned skin that shimmers under the lights. And holy mother of shit, he’s dressed like a cop…

Well, the sexiest possible version of one. A tiny approximation of shirt is half buttoned up over his chest and instead of shorts, he’s wearing a skin-tight mini skirt that hugs the perfect curve of his bubble butt. There’s a little pair of handcuffs clipped onto a tiny belt and a hat rests on top of his wild hair. To top it all off, he’s wearing a pair of huge heels, exactly the same as the rest of the women.

The crowd goes wild and all thoughts about leaving vanish instantly from Dean’s head.

The young man, Angel, practically launches himself at the pole, spinning round it and grinning wildly. There’s a flash of lace as he spreads his legs for a second and Dean would bet a thousand bucks that that boy is wearing panties.

He’s gonna die. Right here, right now. This man is gonna fucking kill him.

_Hey_  
_You're a crazy bitch_  
_But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it_  
_When I dream, I'm doing you all night_  
_Scratches all down my back to keep me right on_

Dean can’t stop staring as Angel works the pole for all it’s worth. Shaking and gyrating his ass to the beat, sliding down and spreading his legs, flashing the crowd a wink as he begins to unbutton his shirt, removing the most beautifully toned torso with v-cuts that Dean would happily spend hours licking and sucking.

Shit, the boy is sexy and he knows it. Dean wants to eat him alive.

“Earth to Dean!” calls Victor, smacking him on the shoulder and making him jump. “See something you like?”

“I think that’s a whole lotta something that Dean likes,” chortles Gabriel, flagging down a passing member of the wait staff to whisper something in her ear.

“Fuck off, both of you.” Dean snaps, not taking his eyes off Angel.

The boy notices him watching and bites his lip, running his hands over his chest and throwing his head back for a moment, mouth open and Dean is really starting to wonder what sort of noises this beautiful young man might make in bed.

Angel licks his lips and shoots Dean a wink as he rips off the tiny skirt to reveal black lace and satin panties underneath.

_Get the video_  
_Fuck you so good_  
_Get the video_  
_Fuck you so good_

Dean is mesmerised as he watches the routine. The boy has style, you’ve gotta give him that, and he’s fucking gorgeous too. There’s a couple of groups of women screaming beside him but the boy ignores them, dancing over to the front of the stage right in front of Dean, who can’t do anything other than stare, throat dry and eyes wide. He locks eyes with Dean as he slides down, grinding his ass to the heavy beat of the song, running his hands along smooth thighs, spreading his legs and shaking his junk.

If Dean is not very careful, he thinks he could actually come in his pants like a teenager who’s just discovered porn.

He can’t tear his eyes away as the boy keeps dancing. He’s well and truly mesmerised. At one point, Dean’s pretty sure Benny says something, but he doesn’t hear him. All he can do is pull twenty dollars out his wallet, trying to pluck up the courage to give them to Angel when he comes close enough.

Angel does, of course, sliding his tongue across his lips as he plucks the money from Dean’s hand, whispering, “thank you, Sir” and mother of all that is holy if that doesn’t do something to Dean’s insides. Especially as Angel’s voice is a lot deeper than expected.

Dean may only be twenty-six, but this kid looks barely legal. Then again for that voice… well Dean would probably do very stupid things for that voice.

All too soon the song comes to an end and Angel skips off stage. Dean knows he’ll probably come out to do the rounds, trying to tempt people into private dances and he’ll probably end up back on the stage at some point as well.

Dean is utterly torn between staying and paying money for a private dance, just to see Angel again and following his original plan of leaving.

Apparently though, the decision has been made for him.

“Excuse me sir,” whispers a waitress, bending down next to him, “I believe you requested a private dance with Angel?”

Dean can feel the heat in his face and he’s glad the club is dimly lit so that she can’t see the colour of his skin. “Yes?” he answers, shooting Gabe a look to confirm his suspicions. The other detective has a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face, which means Dean knows exactly who to blame for this.

“Excellent,” she purrs, “why don’t you come with me.” It’s not a question and all Dean can do is nod dumbly, following her as she sashays across the club, actively trying not to psych himself out at the fact he’s about to come face to face with the newest object of his fantasies.

Somehow, he finds himself sat in a rather plush faux-leather chair in a well-lit, private room without really knowing how he got there.

There’d been a rather scary looking dude outside, who’d frisked him and read him the riot act – it’s all stuff Dean’s heard before. Not that he was listening this time, his brain has pretty much stopped functioning now. All that’s working right now is his imagination and that’s in overdrive trying to picture exactly what Angel might be wearing this time…

He doesn’t have to wait long. The door swings open and Dean’s jaw drops.

This time around, Angel’s outfit consists of the tiniest pair of denim booty shorts, a little, tied off plaid shirt, cowboy boots and a hat as well. It’s like all of Dean’s wet dreams in one picture.

Angel smiles at him and winks, “hey cowboy,” he says, rich voice sending Dean’s blood pumping south ridiculously quickly.

“Hi Angel,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady. Dammit, he can deal with bloody murder scenes without a second thought, but apparently a twink in a cowboy outfit removes his ability to think straight.

“What’s your name?”

“... Dean… Dean Winchester,” he stammers out. Fuck, his brain is losing power rapidly. Focus Winchester.

“And do you have any requests, Dean?” Angel asks, fiddling with the iPod in the corner, words sending shivers up Dean’s spine.

“Nah… no, it’s… um… your choice.”

“Excellent. I think I’ve got just the song for you.” Angel winks at him. “Let’s have some fun!”

The beat kicks in, low and slow at first, a sensual rhythm that crawls under your skin and begs you to wiggle your hips. Angel starts up a slow grind in front of him, close enough to touch, but far enough away that Dean can watch the achingly slow writhe of his hips. He dips slightly and there’s a flash of teal lace at the waistband of his shorts that draws a moan from Dean’s lips. He’s panting already, cock straining at his pants and they’re barely twenty seconds into the song.

Then the guitar kicks in, heavier, louder and faster and Angel’s movements mirror it as he slides towards the floor, giving Dean the perfect view of his tight ass. God it’s a perfect ass. All Dean can think about his getting his hands on it, spreading those cheeks wide and plunging his tongue in, feeling Angel squirm beneath him.

He gasps as Angel moves closer, barely a foot from Dean as he begins to strip, slowly untying the shirt to reveal his smooth, tanned chest. He’s beautifully toned and Dean can’t stop staring as Angel slides his tongue over his plush, pink lips. His hands slide over his skin, and he begins to run his fingers over his nipples as his hips sway, head thrown back in pleasure as the beat washes over him.

_Always keep me under finger_  
_That's the spot where you might linger_  
_But I see sometime the pleasure in my mind_

Dean’s body aches, desire singing through him, all thoughts of his shitty breakup forgotten. He’s flying high on the fantasy in front of him. Angel slides closer, climbing into Dean’s lap, grinding his denim clad ass onto Dean’s throbbing dick, a tiny moan escaping from his lip as he writhes.

“Dean,” he whispers, voice strained as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, “you feel so good.”

“Angel…” Dean gasps, “look so good on my lap baby, bet you’d feel so good on my dick.” His knuckles are white on the arms of the chair and he’s not even sure if he’s allowed to say this shit, but all his filters have shut down, especially when the beautiful boy moans again.

“I bet I would sir,” he whines, “I bet you’ve got an amazing cock under there. I’d love to get my mouth on it.”

The song builds to its crescendo but neither of them notice, both lost in the heady atmosphere of lust and desire. It’s barely finished when another beat kicks in, more modern this time with a swinging beat but Angel doesn’t miss a trick and his rhythm changes to match.

Dean desperately wants to touch. To run his fingers across the exposed expanses of soft, hot skin. To attack it with his mouth, teeth and tongue, tasting, exploring and marking it as his own. He can’t remember the last time he was this turned on. There’s an explosion boiling under his skin, searing through his muscles and melting his insides. 

He can’t speak, can’t think, he’s trapped in realm of intense sensations centred on the man on his lap. He practically whines as Angel slides off his lap, but Angel just winks at him.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ve just got something to show you.” He reaches down, popping the button on his shorts before sliding them over the swell of his ass and kicking them off. Underneath is a stunning pair of lace panties, fabric straining over the swell of Angel’s erection.

“Fuck!” Dean mutters, head thumping against the back of the chair. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that right Angel?”

“You think so?” he pouts, grinding to the slow, thumping beat of the song pulsing through the speakers.

_Baby, can’t you see_  
_How these clothes are fitting on me_  
_And the heat coming from this beat?_  
_I’m about to blow_  
_I don’t think you know_

“Yes. Best thing, I’ve ever seen.” Dean groans. And he really means it. Dammit he’d to anything to keep this going forever.

But the music inevitably winds down.

Angel’s grinding in his lap again, hands wound around Dean’s neck, breath hot against his ear. Silence suddenly fills the room and Angel slows his movements, leaning back to check the clock above the door.

“Looks like we’re nearly out of time, sorry sweetheart.” He slides slowly off Dean’s lap, pulling a whine out of Dean’s lips at the loss of contact.

“Hey Angel,” Dean stutters out, trying to ask the question before his inhibitions return. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Can I take you out for a drink?” It’s a stupid question, Dean knows. There’s definitely got to be some rule about not dating clients. But he has to ask. Just in case.

Angel gives him the once over with a meticulous eye. “Normally, I don’t say yes,” he says and Dean’s heart sinks, even though it’s the answer he was expecting. “But on this occasion, I think I might make an exception.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely!” Angel smirks at him, “I finish in an hour, I’ve just got one more stage routine to do. Wanna stick around until afterwards? I think I might need some stress relief.”

“Sounds great!” Dean honestly can’t believe his luck. He’s still not completely convinced it’s real.

“Perfect. Just wait at the bar and I’ll come find you. And by the way, my name’s Cas.”

And with that he disappears, leaving Dean stunned in the chair.

Perhaps coming out tonight hadn’t been such a bad thing after all…

xxx

Things that happen afterwards:   
  
\- Cas and Dean end up at a bar and drink until closing. They talk about everything and anything.  
\- Dean talks about his job as a detective and discovers Cas is doing his MA in Early European History.   
\- Cas doesn’t kiss him, his rule is no kisses on the first date and Dean laughs because he's seen Cas practically naked but he still can't get a kiss.   
\- They text all weekend and Dean goes to work on Monday with the biggest grin on his face.  
\- When the finally have sex, four dates later, they break Cas’s bed and his roommate complains about the noise for a week. After that they move it to Dean’s apartment.   
\- Dean eventually confesses how much he loves Cas in panties and he buys him new pairs whenever he can afford it.   
\- Every Friday, Dean ends up at _The Candy Shop_. Sometimes he gets a lap dance. He’s still not allowed to touch… at least, not until they get home. 

**Author's Note:**

> The songs Cas dances to (in order) are:  
> \- Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry  
> \- Slither by Velvet Revolver  
> \- Buttons by Pussycat Dolls


End file.
